


someday

by sanguinedawns



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Pein Arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-04-07 09:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19082332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinedawns/pseuds/sanguinedawns
Summary: Naruto unlearns forgiveness.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends. I have decided to write a chaptered fic god knows why. But again here we are. I WILL finish this fic worry not (I know I'm making promises but I really have been stewing over this fic for ages). It's canon and not canon all the same. I do love the show and I think it has so much fun with lore and stuff and I'm no writer, but I do believe you should be able to give your mistreated characters some ounce of justice. So, here is my take on what should've happened/could've happened. It will most likely stray away from the OG canon and some characters won't exist and others will have more personality even prior to the starting point of this fic. This was supposed to be 7 chapters? But I might add more, to be honest. Additionally, there will be more than one pov and I know that's annoying to some people but pleeease give it a chance right now.
> 
> so far the rating is considered this will take place over a couple of years also there is going to be violence so i'll change it according to that. uh, i suppose that's it for now?
> 
> title from the naruto shippuden opening 7. it basically inspired the entire fic lol the lyrics are soooo nice.

 

 

**PROLOGUE**

 

 

Bring war material with you from home, but forage on the enemy.

— Sun Tzu, The Art of War

 

Life in Konohagakure pulses through the streets in the form of children, men, and women. The village dwells deep within a forest at the base of a colossal mountain carved with faces of glorified warriors who’ve not only saved but ruled the borders. The foundation of the parish was built on the efforts of clan heads long, long ago to avoid conflict and end the warring states that plagued the different nations. While the base was set in harmony, it was the growing ordnance that led other states to mimic Konoha’s success and create their own Hidden Villages as centers of the military.

 

Senju Hashirama planted the emblematic—and the literal—seed to Konohagakure’s growth into a town booming with skilled men and women from an array of clans possessing special Kekkei Genkai. It was his diplomatic idealism that led him to form coalitions with a strong competition that extended as far as the Land of Whirlpool where another powerful village was budding to life: Uzushiogakure. And along the marriage of powerful clans came the terror yielding weapon that distinguished Konoha from its kin.

 

The Nine-Tailed Fox was a creature of myths, legends, along with the other tailed beasts that were dispersed throughout the nations. They weren’t meant to be controlled for they were powerful, vile creatures who craved blood and human destruction. To stop the imminent doom they posed to life, an old Sage sealed them in different vessels to _protect_ the greater good. But is there good in using the same vessels as a ward to prove a country’s worth? When Uzumaki Mito traveled to Konoha, less as a bride more like the proof of diplomatic relations, she understood that her worth started and ended with the beast sealed in her belly. She was the First’s wife, but more importantly, she was the vessel to the strongest creature to have set foot on this earth.

 

It is said that a Kyūbi no Kitsune is omniscience meaning it possesses infinite wisdom which he’s accumulated over time—hundreds of years of power honed inside one clawed creature. Once a Nine-tailed fox reaches thousand years of age they change in color, the pallor of orange that covers its coat blurs into an incandescent white gold marking its ascension to a heavenly body. However, that’s not _always_ the case because that is only if the beast has chosen a life of piety and loyalty, but when it’s consumed with bloodlust—as it’s noted to have—the fur burns into an intense red resembling fresh blood.

 

It turns into a demon.

 

A demon that lives, breathes, inside of Mito and all that were before her and that will come after her. That’s the curse she lives with thanks to the Sage from all the years ago, and unfortunately, sooner than later it’ll be another innocent souls’ burden to carry this weight. Understanding why he did it is easy, but seeing the results of how Konoha, along with other villages, use these Jinchūriki—that’s what the vessels are called—for is terrifying at most.

 

Which is exactly why the co-founder of Konohagakure, Uchiha Madara, seeks retribution for his people who are inevitably going to be usurped of their powers and will be made to lose their position as fundamental figures in the creation of the village. This is how a life-long conflict begins and the Will of Fire is birthed. Madara’s loss against Hashirama spurs the philosophical ideology that spreads through the hidden leaf like a wildfire on a summer evening, bright and burning into the minds of the young—the impressionable.

 

The village is a family. One whose interests surpass those of a person’s or their fidelities. The village comes before life, and life is meaningless if it’s taken for the village.

 

The Uchiha Massacre that occurs generations later after Hashirama’s demise embodies the will of fire at its core. For the safety of the greater good, to protect those who can’t defend, the ones who _may_ pose a threat must be eliminated.

 

Whether they are your own or not doesn’t matter.

 


	2. the hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fact i actually finished chapter 1 before the week ended? huzzah! anyway, thank you lovely beta aka my best friend, love of my life. this fic doesn't exist without you. i am extremely grateful for you taking the time to go through this.
> 
> ok! so this is the sorta start of things. a lot of it follows canon but some stuff doesn't? as i mentioned there are multiple povs so hopefully everyone can keep track of them. hrmmm i had more stuff to say but whenever i get around to posting i forget??? anyway i'll answer everyone's comments with every chapter update. thank you so much again for reading!
> 
> oh! i will add characters as i go along. urm, but only characters that actually will be present more than once/have a large presence.

  **THE HERO.**

 

"Love of glory can only create a great hero; contempt of glory creates a great man."

— Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord

 

Dirt. There are clumps of dirt embedded into his fingernails, sticking to the skin under the arch of his nail. Dirt, in its dewy form where it smells like the beginning of monsoon showers and something else. Something old. The cave around him is dark, but the soft peat underneath his palm reminds him of the wetlands he’d crossed to get to Amegakure. There is no vegetation in a cave. What grows in such darkness? So far from sunlight? Life doesn’t come here to bloom, but rather halt in the form of hibernating animals and waiting travelers. Caves are stillborn—hidden away from the ongoing life outside. They’re protection, a momentary reprieve of solitude.

 

But this cave is warm with wet soil in his palms. The flickering of a fire tickles at the nape of his neck, his body spent and exhausted and lifeless. He’s lying on his side, back to the flames that tell him he’s not alone. The embers of sleep that cling to his eyelids are quenched one slow exhale at a time. Until he’s blinking awake into the dark shadows reflecting on the stone walls crafted out of this unfamiliar cave.

 

The soundlessness creates a sense of urgency within him, but he can’t move. He’s not restrained, but his limbs seem disconnected from each other. Where movement is second nature to him, unable to truly rest, right now his entire being fights the panic that settles in his mind to cease. To stop. Then, belatedly, he recognizes the flicker of another chakra—less ominous than the beast contained in him, but terrifying enough to have an enemy freeze in their footsteps. Tiredness seeps through him until it eventually outweighs the struggle his mind puts up. Numbing him into the cloak of slumber that had previously begun to recede.

 

The next time he awakens he’s already on his back, this time facing the cracked ceiling of the cave. There is no longer a fire burning next to him, but sunlight peters out from the small hole to the far left where the opening is—coming in slants. The image of his father burns into his mind—a newly formed memory. He was happy, it was fleeting and then it passed into raging anger. Staying as still he as he can, he opens his palm and closes his fist and then again. He punched the Yondaime Hokage. His father. That’s an unfamiliar connection, a relationship he’s never been told of. Father figures have come in plenty after years of abuse at the hands of the village—the village. He jerks up in a sitting position making his head throb in the process. That might be a concussion, did he end up sleeping on it? That can’t be good.

 

To his left, the cave opens to daylight. It felt like it was dark a second ago. To his right, there is the depth of the cave welcoming him into hiding, another night? Or day? Who knows how long he’s spent here? Then he sees it. The charred wood digging into the damp soil. Someone was here.

 

Willing himself to get on his feet, he drags himself out of the cave, slow steps at a time. There is an undercurrent in his veins, a sign that his chakra is slowly replenishing—it’s cyclical, the way it burns and forms after use. The exhaustion he feels slows it, but he’s always possessed a unique reserve that refills quickly. _Maybe I get it from the Yondaime_.

 

He pauses.

 

He can think about this now. He can make these connections, he can draw conclusions, he can seek answers. It’s like someone gave him a key to a dark secret and suddenly his world is very, very bright. His mind, though, proffers a piddling little question; why now? Why not then? When he’d go to bed with tear stained cheeks and wake up with renewed vigor. This is so much. All at once.

 

The dizziness gets to him, his body swaying and tilting forward and his eyes rapidly blinking to stay open. Sadly, his legs give out right then making him fall until his chest hits a sturdy back. Kakashi holds the back of his knees, lifting him until Naruto loosely circles his arms around his teacher’s shoulders, a voice full of exhaustion and solid pride saying, “I’ve got you.”

 

Naruto lets his eyes finally close, his cheek pressing into his teacher’s shoulder and sighs. He can go home.

 

\--

 

 

The village in the simplest of words is decimated. None of the buildings that he’d climb to get home, or to the Hokage tower, stand. The air permeates with clumps of dust, the lingering scent of blood leaves an iron taste on the tip of his tongue. Yet somehow, instead of being remorseful at what had occurred he’s teeming with excitement. The sight of the welcoming party past Kakashi’s shoulder, where his head is lolling, he can see familiar faces of teachers, comrades, best friends.

Everyone has different words strung together in thanks for his heroic bravery, for his valiant and successful effort at defeating someone who was more or less insuperable. Somewhere along the way the familiarity blends into strangers with the same ounce of gratitude as those of his friends, but Naruto remembers some of the faces in passing—some that maliciously ignored him in the past. A small pinch that pricks in his chest staggers him in his step until Sakura steadies him by the arm and Sai gives him a genuine smile. For the time being, Naruto forgets the uncomfortable feeling.

Iruka claps his shoulders, teary-eyed, “You had me scared.” His eyes dart all over him, his face, his shoulders, his legs, his feet and then back up to meet his eyes and mutters quietly, for only their ears, “A hero before our eyes.”

That’s when Kakashi interrupts, ruffling his hair and speaks with the same confidence he carries during a fight he knows he's bound to win, “Indeed.”

Lightheadedness creeps into his sight when he’s made it past people’s congratulatory remarks, his steps shake, and Sakura holds him up like a pillar. Solid.

Shinobi around the village, especially those uninjured make quick work of setting up camps, stations for food supply, medicine and rest areas for the victims. Naruto finds himself in one of the larger tents basically being strapped to a makeshift bed while Sakura and one of the other junior Medic-nins do a check up on him. His skin still stings from the burn of the tailed beast, but for the most part, he’s only sore. Despite the haphazard assembly of the camp, it smells sterile much like a clinic or a hospital.

He doesn’t know when he lets sleep take over, but his dreams aren’t empty. Naruto sees the fanged beast that settles into his consciousness like a cruel reminder of his existence, he watches the monster snarl and claw at the metal bars of his cage and slowly with little pause the bars begin to disappear. He watches fearfully while his feet remain glued to the ground that’s brimming with water. With every step the monster takes towards him, long claws reaching towards him, the water turns into a crimson red, thicker with a metallic scent. _Blood._  Naruto tries to tell himself to run, to hide, but the Nine-Tailed Fox is getting closer by the second and he’s petrified, his back sweating, his eyes welling up with unshed tears.

Then there is a hand, warm and steadying that pushes at his chest, a streak of yellow and blue ribbons encircling it. Naruto’s fear slowly begins to creep away, the knee-deep blood he’s standing in recedes as his body inclines backward with the force of the push, and suddenly the demon looming over the vaguely familiar figure of a childhood hero—his father—disappears into a puff of smoke. The surroundings fall into darkness save for a flickering fire that now replaces the image where his father was. He’s back at the cave.

The heat burning from the fire warms him to touch. Like another layer, it cocoons him into safety, and he feels at peace. Momentarily, that is. Because the flickering chakra he’d sensed is back, its brightness parallels the burning flame, but the heat is uncomfortable, it gets under his skin and there is a shadow—

Blinking he reaches out, to touch, to feel the forgone familiarity, but it whizzes past him. He frowns wondering where did the other person go? Why did they escape? Until someone comes and stands right in front of him. Again, he reaches out extending his arm to the other body. Instead, he’s met with piercing pain, his eyes widening in shock when he feels the blade dig into his stomach—he’s stabbed, he’s bleeding—

He’s dying.

He wakes up sweat dripping down his back and his brows. Chest heaving at the adrenaline pumping through him. There is a tray with a jug of water and glass set to his side. He pours himself some and drinks it one gulp. It should be around a little before midnight. He doesn’t even remember passing out, but he must’ve been severely exhausted. There are some other injured people in the tent with him, sleeping without a care in the world. He guesses they don’t have anything to worry over considering he defeated the latest threat.

Needlessly, his mind keeps drawing back to his nightmare. To the tailed beast, to his father and the person at the cave. The Fourth Hokage had warned him this will be the last time he’d be fixing his seal meaning the fix isn’t definite, that he’s likely to break it again. The thought of the Kyūbi overtaking his conscience indefinitely terrifies him to his core, however, he isn’t sure what to do. He’s not as strong as he ought to be. With Nagato, his convictions proved to be sufficient. That isn’t the case with every future threat the village will face. And now that he’s elevated to the hero status it’s probable that he’d be the first one to be sought out to remedy any situation.

A small voice at the back of his mind tells him he’s being foolish letting the acceptance get to his head. But he is strong, isn’t he? Just, maybe, not the way people expect him to be. Especially not if he’ll lose himself to the Nine-Tailed Fox.

Drawing in a sigh he shoves aside the blanket and walks out of the tent. Outside he’s surprised to find people still milling about, carrying logs and supplies to the construction that’s already started up thanks to Yamato. In an old history book, Naruto once read during his academy days, it said the majority of Konoha infrastructure was built by Senju Hashirama himself. Mokuton, wood release, is a nature transformation Kekkei Genkai that was uniquely possessed by the First Hokage. And now, Yamato.

Finding Iruka’s tent is far easier than he’d imagined. There are Special Jōnin and Chūnin entering and exiting with urgency in their step. The man hasn’t been in active duty for years, but his calm persona and natural leadership makes him the perfect candidate to seek out in trying times—especially considering so many of the Chūnin visiting him studied under his tutelage.

The girl who is exiting right when Naruto enters is a recent graduate, her hair cut short and pulled back by clips and her shiny unscathed new hitai-ate. At first glance, she doesn’t pay mind to him until his shoulder brushes hers and she staggers back startled. Her eyes double in size and a blush rises to her cheek. She smiles, bowing a little which surprises him because despite all he’s a low-ranking Genin. Wordlessly, he enters the tent and finds Konohamaru fast asleep on one of the makeshift futons. Iruka looks up from the scroll unfurled before him and smiles tiredly, “You’re supposed to be resting.”

Naruto scratches his cheek and shrugs. When he’s not asked to leave, he settles down beside his old teacher, peering at the contents of the scroll, “What is that?”

“We’re figuring out the chain of command. In the Hokage’s absence, the collective duty falls upon high ranking Jōnins. But since they’re busy making executive decisions we need someone to lead the Chūnin and Genin in the most productive direction,” he writes down another name he considers qualified and chews on his bottom lip.

“Why don’t you do it?” Naruto ponders out loud. “You know most of them, heck, you’ve even taught them?”

“Yes, but it’s above my permitted level of clearance,” Iruka explains calmly, “Also, I’m an academy teacher who prioritizes learning as opposed to combat. Konoha is vulnerable right now if the enemy decides to come back—”

Naruto immediately sits up straight, fear-stricken, though he schools himself into confidence, “They won’t.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” Iruka offers, giving him a side-glance. “I’m sorry it’s just precautionary measures—”

“I know, but Nagato—I mean Pein—said we had time. No one should be attacking us we have time to rebuild,” Naruto notices Kakashi’s name is absent from the candidate ballot. That’s strange considering he’s overqualified if anything. But the man’s indifference is palpable even to a stranger so maybe he shouldn’t be leading a bunch of listless shinobi.

He charges on, “What are we preparing for, Iruka-sensei?”

There is a quiet that is comforting, that holds shelter, this, however, is the very opposite. Something about the speechlessness of his otherwise chatty teacher is nerve-wracking. There are so many similarities between them that Naruto always misses them. Belatedly, he understands, they both tend to fill the silence with words. Where his are obnoxious, overbearing, demanding of attention. Iruka’s are more excitable and focused. Nonetheless, they both speak freely with little to no regard. Right now, his sensei is carefully picking his words.

“War,” the truth wins out tact, “I believe we’ll be going to war.”

Expectedly, he never gets around to talking about his nightmare, or the dark figure from the cave, or the weight that’s slowly building upon his shoulders with each passing compliment. It all seems trivial in the light of his discussion with Iruka. He’s walking through the camps, the gravel beneath his feet rubbly when he hears a group of older men huddled together whispering over what seems to be alcohol.

“Maybe the Third was right,” the one with the receding hairline speaks, “The Jinchūriki would be more of a use to the village than a threat.”

“You think that senile old man had thought that far ahead?” he snorts, taking a huge gulp out of his mug, “I heard he wanted him to disappear into the shadows, fail the academy and become pointless.”

The youngest one commented then, “Wouldn’t that make him bitter? I think the third was an opportunist.”

“How so?”

“He struck gold, didn’t he? Starving the child of affections until he’s a mindless soldier willing to do anything for—”

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” a bored voice interrupts the group, Kakashi is perched on top of the stacks of wood placed next to where the men are standing. “Shouldn’t you be helping with the cleanup at the gates?”

Afraid to speak the men promptly stand up, the liquor filled mugs falling to the ground as they collect their gear and mumble out apologies. They walk away ashamed, tail between their legs, and once they’re out of earshot, Kakashi approaches him, “I’d wager you heard all of that?”

Naruto gives him a tight smile staring at the packed earth under his feet, “Do you think they were—”

“I don’t think,” Kakashi stops him, uncharacteristically he places a strong hand on his shoulder, “They’re wrong.”

“Are you comforting me?” Naruto squints up through his bangs.

“Would that be so terrible?” Kakashi muses drawing back his hand. Naruto steers away from where the men had been sitting towards the river that runs through Konoha, the pier is destroyed much like everything else, but the nighttime lets the moonshine reflect off the clear water surface.

The stream flows clear, fresh water over a pebbled ground. It’s brimming at this time of the year due to the melting of ice at the snowcapped mountains up north. Surprisingly, he’s never followed the course of the river although it’s been his favorite place to visit whenever he’s feeling down—a flashback of another boy clouds his thoughts. Stolen glances turned into hidden smiles. Naruto shakes his head and settles where the riverbed erodes into the grass blades.

He crosses his ankles, and Kakashi stays standing. After a moment he speaks, “You knew my father.”

From the corner of his eyes, he can see the older man bristle at the statement, his one uncovered eye widening. Not many people catch Kakashi Hatake off-guard. He’s shrewd, talented, the very best of his generation of shinobi and to have him stupefied is a feat not many can claim they’ve achieved. But Naruto’s words do just that. Catch him off-guard. Like he’s suddenly accused of being guilty.

“That I did,” he replies in the same calm demeanor he’s always possessed, the nonchalance rolling off his shoulders, practiced and unperturbed. Naruto often had wondered what made him so hard, the shell that he hid inside of so sharp that no one has dared to pierce it. Not now, not before. But right now, instead of dwelling on his sensei’s past hurt he’s encumbered by his own pain, one that pricks at the millions of nerve endings in his body.

Helplessly, vulnerable, he glances up with determined eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me?” His chest aches and he wants to fight and punch Kakashi and tell him how cruel it was to keep this from him. How he was so close—so close to giving up—

“The proper answer would be because as a Konoha Shinobi our silence was demanded at the Hokage’s orders. It was decided it would be better for you—” Naruto snorts at the claim, “and the villagers for this to be a secret. You wouldn’t crumble under your parent’s heroism and we wouldn’t have to deal with outside eyes prying at a defenseless child.”

Kakashi sighs next, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Not sure if that was the best way to go about things.”

“Do you regret it?” Naruto asks.

 

Kakashi squats down and speaks. This time his voice holds clarity, but something else. Something sure.

“There was a time when I thought I didn’t have to keep bonds anymore. That I could mindlessly lead the rest of my life until it’s inevitable end,” he draws out the Kanji for fire in the dirt and then draws a line through it, “Village over comrades, village over the lives of your precious ones—you remember Haku?”

Naruto nods numbly to his first encounter with death. First actual one that wasn’t just the Kyūbi haunting his dreams with bloody images, but an actual life being taken, and it was to save another. He remembers Haku’s blood splattered on the bridge like a cursory reminder of all that was to come before him.

“Remember how they said sometimes strength lies in acknowledgment from our precious people?” Kakashi draws another line through the Kanji, “That child sacrificed themselves for the sake of a loved one even if it went against what a shinobi is meant to be.”

This time Kakashi looks up from the ground, staring at Naruto with intent in his eyes, “I am regretful for not telling you sooner. I was young and hurt and lost and I didn’t want more precious people that made me question why I do what I do. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that I was wrong.”

“Did it change?” Naruto wonders out loud. He thinks if it came to that point, would he pick a friend over the village? Dark bottomless eyes come to mind. He would. _He would_.

Kakashi ruffles his hair, eyes turning into tiny crescents and the taut strings that had Naruto’s chest pulled tight loosen and he smiles back, “Three unsuspecting brats decided it would.”

Naruto laughs, loud and unabashed, “Careful there, Kaka-sensei, you keep talking like that and I’ll think you care.”

“Mhm,” Kakashi mumbles, “Maybe you should.”

They end up walking back to the tent Naruto’s meant to be staying at. He hesitates before going in, and turns to face Kakashi, “The fourth said my seal is weakening. He fixed it for now but…”

Kakashi’s eyebrows furrow together in thought, “We’ll have to find a way to fix it. Maybe the Archive has some research on it. I’ll check.”

Naruto nods. He’s ready to turn in when Kakashi says, “I’m sorry.”

He’s heard those words exactly once before. They were tumbled out of a concerned Iruka who’d swaddled him in his arms, making sure he wasn’t hurt due to Mizuki’s attack. He’d profusely repeated the word, again and again until Naruto had realized adults too can apologize. They too can make mistakes. Iruka had held him to his chest and muttered promises that to this day he’s kept.

Upset and overwhelmed he quietly approaches Kakashi, bringing his arms around to his teacher’s waist and hides his face in his flak jacket. The sobs come out naturally, spurring complaints and hurt, “I was so alone.”

“I know,” Kakashi rubs his back uselessly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Dad said he believes in me,” Naruto glances up with tears streaming down his face, and probably snot covering his nose.

Kakashi laughs remembering his own brief encounter with Sakumo, he ruffles Naruto’s hair and says, “Fathers are like that. They know what to say best.”

 

\--

 

Sakura often wondered what it meant to be strong. She was smart, _clever,_  but no one ever quite thought of her as strong. Girls her age were at the brink of adulthood and they were asked to be _strong so_  when Tsunade for the very first time ground her fist into the training field #23, rupturing the land into jagged rocks and unearthed dirt, she saw strength with her own two eyes. Later that evening her mother corrected her slouching posture and tutted her for frowning. She’d said, _“Girls shouldn’t sit like that nor wear their emotions so carelessly on their faces._   _”_ It was reminiscent of what the shinobi handbook said.

Rule #25: No matter what the situation. A shinobi must keep their emotions on the inside. You must make the mission your top priority. And you must possess a heart that never shows tears.

That wasn’t much different from what her mother thought a girl ought to be. An emotional paragon of stability and comfort to everyone besides herself. So, she wondered what it meant to be a strong, powerful girl? Woman? Because Tsunade carried guilt in the heaps of money she lost in gambling and clutter of alcohol she ingested. That was emotion painted in clear strokes across every action she took. But she also splintered the largest tree in the Forest of Death with a flick of her wrist and Sakura was astonished, perplexed, but most of all enamored. Strength, _how peculiar_ it was.

She was a child waiting to bloom. To be taken notice of. She’d realized her need to be acknowledged was misdirected to the boy who saw little in those around him, whose eyes were distant, and words were terse. She wanted his recognition above all. She mistook it for love.

Seasons did pass and the intensity she felt sort of faded. Her desire to be better, however, superseded all her other goals. Tsunade said she’ll be Team 7’s medic and somehow that left a gritty taste in her mouth. The only girl was shafted with the caretaker role, expected. That is until Tsunade recited four clauses:

  1.     No medic ninja shall ever stop medical treatment until the lives of their party members have come to an end.
  2.     No medic ninja shall ever stand on the front lines.
  3.     No medic ninja shall ever die until they are the last of their platoon.
  4.     Only those medic ninja who have mastered the _Strength of a Hundred Technique of the ninja art Creation Rebirth_ are permitted to discard the above-mentioned laws.



 

Sakura clenched her fists in delight, eager, restless to learn. But that wasn’t even the most important lesson her teacher taught her that day. After the long hours spent training, the sun beating down on her back with her clothes ripped at the seams she quietly whined at her own lack of progress, Tsunade had said, “Louder.”

“What?” Sakura’s eyebrows knitted together, and she drew into herself afraid to be reprimanded. By no means, she was ever shy, but where she was bright and sociable, she lacked confidence in her innate abilities.

“If you’re unsatisfied be loud. Demand more. You’re a shinobi it’s your right to learn. To be the very best,” she explained, “That brat, Naruto, he’s terrible and his people skills need work, but you know what he’s good at?”

“Being loud,” Sakura slowly answered.

Tsunade smirked proudly, “Being loud.”

Thinking back now, her shift into a leadership role—guiding the hurt villagers, setting up the medical camps, summoning Lady Katsuya—was all thanks to Tsunade’s unshakable belief in her. Sakura’s heart fills with gratitude at the memory, looking past Shizune at Tsunade’s still body. She’s not much for prayers believing in action, in science above all, but _still,_ she keeps hoping the older woman will wake up any second and with the same unretiring vigor she carries herself with she’ll command her two peers to move along and busy themselves elsewhere.

Unfortunately, life isn’t so kind to listen. Sighing she bids Shizune a goodbye before excusing herself for the day’s activities. Iruka-sensei had asked her to assist with the medic unit who are helping the orphan children with their injuries. Later, she believes, she’s tasked on clean-up duty near the newly built city center—that was the first building Captain Yamato constructed to provide a neutral ground for planning and whatnot.

On her way to the camp, she sees him. Hair as bright as the sunflower petals Ino always gushes over, a smile rivaling the sun’s brightness, Naruto stands at the center of a crowd of children. The youngest child that’s got a cast around his arm tries to climb him, he’s short and can barely peek through his overgrown bangs but he’s making grabby hands until Naruto concedes and lifts him into his arms. The boy promptly winds his good arm around Naruto’s neck, burying his nose in his shoulder shyly. He can’t be older than four.

Somewhere to Sakura’s right, she hears a hushed whisper, “He’s so cute, how come I’ve never noticed?”

 

The young Jōnin eyes Naruto scrupulously, studying him from top to bottom until her companion comments, “Y’know, Jinchūriki this, Jinchūriki that. But that hardly matters now.” She flippantly flicks a hand towards him sighing dreamily.

An ugly thorn settles in Sakura’s chest, she wants to walk over and scream and tell them of all the terrible things Naruto went through. Of how he’s worked so hard for every ounce of recognition he’s now receiving, but another dormant part of her wants to walk away. Flaunt her own closeness with her teammate—no, best friend. Her dearest, closest friend. There was a time she’d considered that to be someone else, a girl from grade school or one from the academy. At one point, even Ino—but that, well, it’s a little complicated. Now, however, in every definition of the word Naruto is the guiding light of her life, her rock and she’s immeasurably grateful.

Eventually, she decides to do neither. She watches until the crowd thins out by the calls of worried parents calling their children for food. The youngest boy with the broken arm hesitates. There doesn’t seem to be anyone seeking him out it seems.

He’s an orphan.

Naruto must notice because he grins, gesticulating with one arm while the other balances the child on his hip. She can hear chopped words _ramen_ , _Teuchi,_   _incredible._  Sakura shakes her head, a bubble of laughter escaping her which makes him glance up. He blinks, tilting his head to the side like a small confused pup, “Ne, Sakura, would you like to go get food with us?”

She treads the distance between them, and he wiggles his eyebrows mischievously, “Like a date?”

Amused Sakura only pulls at his ear, a whiny groan falling out of his mouth, she pointedly turns to the little boy, “Don’t use this idiot as an example. You’ll never find a girlfriend.”

The boy’s brow knit together and he replies, “I don’t even like girls!”

Sakura blushes and Naruto laughs out loud.

\--

 

He hadn’t always heard the beast. When he was younger it was quiet, innocuous. There wasn’t anything to think otherwise. He didn’t think there was some inane reason he was different, he just thought he _was_. People always had a specific mien in their eyes when they stared him down. Hate, disgust, repulsion. It wasn’t hard to decipher the difference between Iruka’s natural warmth and the store vendors repulsed glares. Naturally, he’d thought he did something wrong, maybe, by accident or in ignorance. He didn’t really understand.

At least not until the crimson tendrils of chakra wrapped around him, pulsing through his veins, bursting through the surface of his skin. It started out small, barely there, but bubbled into a coat of acidic power that burned his flesh and made his ears hurt from the nefarious growls the Nine-Tailed Fox elicited through its cage. There were sounds of bone breaking, his jaw extending, his nail outgrowing. Naruto had zero control over heedless destruction of his own body, the only thing niggling at the forefront of his mind was Sasuke’s cold body pricked with senbon. The white rage was incandescent, blinding to his own growing power.

That was a little over four years ago. Now the Nine-Tailed Fox was an omnipresent parasite who thought Naruto’s antics were amusing if not childish. He summoned his host on a whim, to goad at him of his inability to be stronger—or strong enough to make a difference without his help. And that’s why he found himself again in the deep cavern illuminated by a hazy yellow glow, staring at the blood-red sharply fanged creature through the gaps of the metal bars that kept him locked.

The knee-deep water is yellow-tinted probably due to the dim light, it’s clear enough for him to see his feet flat on the ground. Kyūbi guffaws at his fascination, “ _You humans are so predictable_.”

Naruto doesn’t answer instead squats down dipping his hand into the water. The water slides off his palm not even making his skin wet. Intrigued he tries again and nothing. So, he looks up wondering, “What is this place, you never told me?”

If the beast had eyebrows, he’d raise them mockingly, he breathes through his nose, “ _The seal space. A part of our conjoined conscience_.”

“What do you want?” Naruto narrows his eyes, “Why won’t you leave _me_ alone?”

The gold iris of the fox slits into a deep red, anger rising as it stands on its haunches, “ _Believe me, child, no one is more desperate to get rid of you than me_.”

He manages to keep a straight face despite the needling hurtful words. But this is coming from the mouth of a creature that’s eternally bound to hatred. Yet he’s reminded that he’s disposable, expendable after he’s served his purpose. If he truly reflects then that’s all shinobi are. Tools crafted to defend a state until their skill is replaceable by someone stronger—there will always be someone stronger, right?

 

“ _Your thoughts aren’t idle,_ ” the animal comments, “ _nor isolated_.”

“What do you mean?” Naruto scrunches his nose. He doesn’t understand what’s being said. He’s just tired and wants to go back to sleep.

Kyūbi raises a tail and waves it, much like a dog being playful, “ _You and I are the same_ —”

“How the fuck are we anything alike?”

“ _As long as you’re lying to yourself you won’t see. See the hatred that’s seeded in you all along—”_

Anger spreads through his chest down to his fingers that he closes into a tight fist, he speaks through gritted teeth, “You like killing! You hate people! I want to save—”

“ _Do you?_ ”

“Of course, I do!”

Distaste flickers on the Nine-Tails face and he swats all nine of its tails and demands, “ _Then, begone!_ ”

He wakes up with a jolt, back sweaty and palms clammy. The night passes in a restless blur. Yet he feels the beginnings of a tide, the rise of emotions he’s long forgotten—bitterness swirls as he remembers his isolation. He’s the village hero. He’s being celebrated. The bastardization of his existence has waned into a distant past because he’s Naruto Uzumaki the savior—then why? Why does it feel like he’s still the same hurt boy from all those years ago?

 

\--

 

A week post the Pein attack there is a shift in the atmosphere. The previously nervous Jōnin become increasingly tetchy especially after Shikaku’s meeting with the Daimyō and the council. Kakashi joins his colleagues at the city center where Nara had urgently demanded all commanding members and high ranking Jōnin to meet. Gai paces next to him which unsettles him considering the man is usually bursting with positivity. There is a heavy cloud hanging over them and this morning he’d accidentally broken glass at the clinic when he visited Naruto which can’t be a good omen.

 

He’s an Inuzuka as much as a Hatake. He breathes differently from the rest. Because when his nose inhales, scents overwhelm his senses before oxygen fills his lungs. That’s the uniqueness of a clan-specific trait. It’s so ingrained into your existence that each breath taken feels secondary to how your distinct ability feels. When he’d gotten the Sharingan, an outside gift—an Uchiha’s forgotten curse—he’d felt the burden of seeing the world in red. He’d always smelled the earth for its blood, it’s life and its unwillingness to succumb. But the ocular gift unlocked another sense and he saw—he sees differently just like he smells differently.

He smells dread. Chaos. Death.

Shikaku climbs the makeshift stage, clearing his throat. He’s an eloquent man. Someone with far more tact than his own son who’s coined the singular genius of his class—Neji Hyūga was said to be one too, but when you carry the brand of the branch house on your forehead people are less inclined to accost you. Then there was another, a boy too much like himself, but where he’d seen parts of himself, he’d seen pain unfamiliar. Kakashi’s regretful of many things in his life, and maybe, now, he’s ready to admit to another.

Yuhi Kurenai with her swollen belly, leans her weight on his shoulder, heavily breathing out, “Do you think the rumors are true?”

Gai pauses in his pacing, eyes darting from the woman to Kakashi, “They wouldn’t make him Hokage. They need Jōnin approval before—”

“Do they?” Kakashi jerks his head towards where Shikaku unfurls an official embossed scroll, the Land of Fire Emblem a blazing red on the back. “Looks like they already did.”

The older man speaks with unhinged clarity, eliciting a wave of murmur among the Chūnin present, “The new Hokage will be Shimura Danzō as decided by the council and the Daimyō.”

Raidou signals everyone to calm down and the scarred man continues talking, “He’ll be arriving at the village at Dawn. A welcoming party consisting of Maito Gai, Shiranui Genma and myself will be greeting him and acquainting him to the past weeks' setup.”

A younger boy raises his hand, he can’t be older than Naruto, Kakashi notices, “What about Lady Tsunade?”

 

There is a hum of agreement. Shikaku sighs eyes flitting to Shizune who stands behind the stage, arms crossed over her chest and a deep frown on her face. She doesn’t look away but meets the man’s eyes with unwavering contempt, “I believe, Godaime is relieved of her duties for the time being. Considering her situation.”

“She’s in a coma, not dead,” Kurenai rudely mumbles next to him. Kakashi excuses himself from the meeting.

His feet drag him to the only tent that’s had its doors open since the attack. Casting aside the tarp he enters to find Iruka scribbling away on sheets of paper.

“You didn’t join the meeting?” Kakashi asks, not accusing just curious. Iruka pauses to meet his eyes resolutely and then down at the pages in front of him. The grip on his ink pen tightens.

He speaks in careful words, “The man who’s more than likely responsible for the biggest massacre in Konoha history is about to be in the position of most power.” With a shaky breath he says, “So, no, I wasn’t there for the announcement of his joyous inauguration while the defender of this village lies in her bed practically lifeless.”

“You’re letting personal grievances cloud your judgment, Iruka-sensei,” Kakashi replies. The man is right. It isn’t a secret amongst the older Chūnin and Jōnin that Danzō might have been involved in the Uchiha massacre. But it is protocol to not talk about it because even walls have ears and if the word got out that the genocide was state-sanctioned then it’s bound to stir bedlam and mistrust amongst the villagers.

Iruka doesn’t take well to the reprimand because he glares at him, “Have you forgotten of the council’s opinion of the Jinchūriki, Kakashi-sensei?”

“Iruka…” he trails off dropping the formalities.

“No? Because let me remind you that these people have and will continue to either use him as a weapon,” he pauses. The pen in his hands snaps into two, “Or completely get rid of him.”

“We won’t let that happen,” Kakashi placates.

“And you can guarantee that? Wouldn’t defending a possible _threat_ to the village be a personal grievance for _you_?”

Kakashi squats, eye-level to the young Chūnin who has always been kinder beyond his years, wiser than time should allow, “I will bet my life on it. I won’t let anyone touch Naruto. Not a single hair.”

Iruka’s eyes well up in concern, or gratitude, or affection, Kakashi can’t place. But nonetheless, the man inhales deeply before asking, “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

 

\--

 

Sai finds out before anyone else. Danzō requests of him immediately after his ascension to the Hokage position. The man talks in calculated errors and distant plans that he’s intending on carrying through. A few months ago, the news wouldn’t phase him. A kill order on another meaningless face that will ultimately absolve into nothingness. But it’s different now because, although, he himself doesn’t personally feel connected to it he can clearly picture Naruto’s grief and Sakura’s anger.

Melancholy had blanketed Konoha since Danzō’s arrival. The people had found trust in Tsunade’s leadership and after her sacrifice, during the Pein Invasion, it had solidified their loyalty further. To have that be taken from them on the grounds of the woman’s incapacitation was understandable, but definitely not something they liked. Sai wonders how’d they’ll feel once Danzō’s promoted from his interim status to permanent.

Finding Sakura and Naruto is easier than he’d imagined. They’re walking along the strait that runs through Konoha, laughing in between quips and whatnot. Naruto looks a bit different than he has in the past two weeks. His shoulders aren’t tightly wounded nor are his eyes tired. In fact, for the first time since the attack, he looks _happy._  Foreign anxiety curdles in Sai’s stomach that he’ll be the one to deliver the news that will most likely ruin his friends’ cheerful disposition.

Both of them stop in their step when they notice Sai, Naruto waving him over, “Where have you been? Did you forget we were meeting for lunch today?”

“Yeah, Sai!” Sakura’s hands are on her hips, “You know, Yamato-sensei and Kakashi-sensei _both_ were there. It is rare for Unit 7 to find the time to eat together!”

Sai gives a grave smile, ecstatic that he feels a sense of belonging to these people—to this team—but that’s immediately squashed by what he says next, “I need to tell you something.”

Sakura must pick on his tone—she’s always been good at gauging another person’s emotions, unlike himself. He’s never had to deal with them mostly due to how he was brought up. Recently though being around these people has helped him understand and communicate better. On top of the books he’s accumulated.

“Danzō has issued a kill order on Sasuke,” the words hang between them for a moment. Until Naruto says, “What?”

“Apparently, he’s attacked the brother of the Raikage—the eight tail’s host—and their country has not only sought our alliance but requested we take care of our missing-nin. In response, Sasuke has officially been listed as a level 1 threat and criminal. He’s no longer protected under the State of Konoha—”

“They can’t do that!” Naruto’s outburst is expected, his fist clenching, “I don’t understand! He killed Itachi! He’s gotten revenge! Why would he attack a Jinchūriki?”

“Because he’s part of the Akatsuki,” another voice interrupts their conversation. Sai’s eyes flit over to the river channel where two Shinobi dressed in unfamiliar gear stand. They wear Kumogakure flak jackets. The woman with bright red hair is staring at them with contempt in her amber eyes meanwhile the white-haired man loftily grins, “Unaware of your own men’s treachery?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Naruto yells.

“We’re Kumo-nin here delegating the Raikage’s request to your Kage,” the woman explains but her tone is seething, unamused as opposed to her counterpart who’s visibly unbothered. “Sasuke Uchiha has abducted our mentor and for that, he’ll pay. Whether Konoha decides to assist or not. So, it’d be wise if you cough up any information you have regarding the man.”

“Like hell—” Naruto starts but Sakura marches forward, “We’re under no obligation to speak or discuss this with you—”

“I wouldn’t interrupt if I were you, little girl,” the droll in the woman’s voice isn’t lost to any of them and Sai can see the twitch in Sakura’s muscles. “We’ll extort information out of you one way or another.”

“Why you—” Sakura charges forward with a fist and the woman jumps out of the way, the boy draws a sword and side-steps the two girls to shift to Sakura’s side. The balls of his feet adjust to the weight of the ground beneath him, opting for a traditional Kendo stance, he speedily slides the weapon forward intending on slicing Sakura’s unguarded side when Naruto flashes before him. Sai appears to his teammates’ other side, protecting her from the redhead's advancing fist. Meanwhile, Naruto’s stopped the swords with his hands, both palms pressed on the top and bottom of the blade.

The Kumo-nin lets out a derisive snort, “This would be a lot quicker if you cooperated. I’m not one for bloodshed.”

“So aren’t we,” Kakashi’s voice filters through the adrenaline rush coursing through Sai. He spots his teacher on a lowly hanging dark-bark spruce tree branch. “Sai, Sakura, Naruto stand back.”

Naruto tries to rebuttal, mumbling about how they aggravated them first, but the Kunoichi with the blazing hair speaks in even tone, “Your men, despite knowing our cordial status, attacked us. Aside from Konohagukare not handling their missing-nin it seems you also lack the tact to deal with foreign messengers.”

Kakashi joins them on the ground, coming to stand between his students and the Kumo-nin, “Maybe we’ve been lenient with our defected, however, you willfully engaged with low ranking Genin and a Chūnin that is not given the clearance level of the information you provided them. That’s hardly following shinobi protocol—not to mention the intentional aggravation on your part.”

 

The white-haired boy bristles at Kakashi’s words, tilting his head in a scrutinizing gaze, “Kakashi Hatake of the Leaf?”

“My students have already said this before, but since it bears repeating, I’m not obligated to share anything with your nor are they,” he steps back and meets Sai’s eyes. “Go back to the base, Yamato is waiting for you three.”

Sai nods and Sakura joins him, but Naruto remains fixed where he’s standing. His body shakes like a leaf, in anger or grief or hurt, Sai isn’t sure. Then he speaks, a heavy emotion-laden voice, “They said they’ll kill Sasuke. Kaka-sensei—”

For the very first time, Sai sees a flicker of tenderness on Kakashi Hatake’s face. He whispers so no one can hear but being in Root for so many years has equipped Sai with the skill to read lips, “ _No they won’t. Let’s talk later, okay?_ ”

“Okay.”

 


	3. the calm before the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updating after months because canon is hard! and writing it frustrates me! i can't just magically fix everything as opposed to modern au's. especially because sasuke and naruto both deserve justice that canon never allots them. anyway, i did write this chapter a while ago and i was talking to friends the other night and it reminded me my *big* plans for this fic. i hope you like this chapter. comments and kudos and questions are much appreciated, tbh. 
> 
> once again thank you lovely beta aka bff. i adore you.

**THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM**  

 

 

 

“Being a monster is not the same as being a bad person. It just means you’re willing to eat the world if that’s what you have to do to keep yourself alive.”

— Chimera by Mira Grant

 

 

 

 

Nine-tails. Jinchūriki. Demon.

Those words have always held little to no meaning to him. Whispered in a caustic tone that had always fallen deaf to his ears. Monsters weren’t demons to him; they didn’t take the shape of fanged beasts with chakra that made you tremble in fear nor were they tucked in children’s stories mothers told. No, they were alive and had faces of familiarity, of understanding and sometimes they were family—to  _ him _ , a monster was cruel and unforgiving. It was Itachi’s bleeding eyes stained with the massacre of his clan and the Sharingan that swirled to the rhythm of death.

When the other kids were wary of approaching the mischievous orphan, Sasuke had sulked and ruminated. He didn’t pay attention to the villages’ buzz because they had things to say about him too. The son of the clan leader; the shadow of the prodigal heir who’d gone awry; the last of his blood. Everyone had a different descriptor for who he was, what he will be. People are like that. They enjoy sorting others into labels to make sense of differences and similarities. Some held him in high regard and respect while others pitied his existence. Because being alone is one thing, but being the only one? That’s a whole different game.

Maybe Sasuke had been privileged to have a certain aloofness that afforded him the ability to tune out his surrounding chatter.

Not all received that option.

He was seven. He was young. Death was a familiar friend. Freshly embedded into his memories. He couldn’t quite remember last spring, or what he ate on his 5 th birthday. But if someone were to ask about the slant of his mother’s shoulders while she laid in her own pool of blood then he could describe it with all of his five senses. A detailed account of the entire night, picture by picture.  _ Sharingan _ , a  _ gift _ the Third Hokage had once muttered under his breath to a newly orphaned boy and all Sasuke had seen was his own pallid reflection quivering in trepidation.

That was then and this is now.

He’s not chained to the village’s ideology, or connections, or perjury on which lives are built upon—especially not now when he knows the truth. He knows that it was the encumbered fear that led Konoha to hurt their own, a fear created out of a self-absorbed philosophy. That’s why it makes little sense for his blood to run cold at the sight before him. For a second, his mind clouds with past memories of streets he’d run down on chasing after Itachi with grubby hands, holding the hem of his mother’s shawl in winters when they’d walk home from the grocery store or when—team 7 had team building, team 7 chasing kittens, team 7 dining at Ichiraku’s.  It’s a flash of rapidly passing memories like a movie playing at twice the speed .

Suigetsu’s audible gasp breaks his trance, “Sasuke…The village.”

The village has a cavernous crater right at the center, the only signifying marker of Konoha ever existing is the Hokage mountain that still stands placid. Sasuke grimaces because somehow that’s significant of all the crimes of the leaders; the ones in power going unpunished on the backbone of their loyal soldiers. He doesn’t get to deliberate his next move, not when Karin buzzes next to him, stepping forward and exclaiming, “Something’s wrong.”

“Well, no shit, there is a meteor-sized crater in place of a village. What the fuck happened?” Suigetsu’s crude words don’t deter Karin as she narrows her eyes. Sasuke can see her tracing chakra patterns. It’s Jūgo who speaks up next.

“What do you see?”

“He’s hurting,” Karin’s voice is always a touch below emotion, the perfect mix of rasp and indifference. Even when she’s heavily flirting with Sasuke the wooing is masking the perpetual apathy.  She claps her hands over her ears, screwing her eyes shut and croaks through gritted teeth, “ _ Stop _ , make it stop.”

“What’s going on?” Jūgo’s concern expels in waves as he rushes to Karin’s side holding her upright. Suigetsu head turns back and forth between the village and Karin’s crumbling state. Sasuke’s not a sensor type so he can’t be overwhelmed as Karin is, however, his eyes see  _ all _ so when the red of the Sharingan clouds his pupils he sees it. The mass of chakra concentrated, debilitating its owner by the second and he recognizes it as the blood in his own veins.

Naruto.

They barely get to gather their thoughts when the ground beneath them shakes. At first, he thinks it’s an earthquake, but something about the tremor isn’t natural.

“Holy fuck, Sasuke,” Suigetsu points towards the sky at pieces of rocks flying towards the lashing foul chakra they’d sensed. Cinder blocks, broken rocks, twigs, trees, all things matter congeal into a massive circular rock formation surrounding the tailed-beast all the while he tries to break out of it.

“Listen,” the words come tumbling out of him on autopilot, his body moving towards the lashing energy. “I need you all to get away as far as possible but close enough where you can scout the perimeter. We need to subdue the Tailed-beast.”

It’s Suigetsu who reaches to grip his arm, “So, are we capturing it?”

Sasuke locates Naruto’s exact location. At the center of the feral beast. Tendrils of chakra clustering off his transformed body while the enemy, an Akatsuki member from the looks of it, watches. Sasuke draws his Kusanagi for good measure, electricity sparking through the blade, “No, we’re saving him.”

Each member disperses as ordered, Karin’s step staggering while she climbs back to the trees for shelter. Up close Sasuke can smell something burning. Plastic, it smells like plastic and little else. Closer he can see the skin of Naruto’s body peel with every stroke of chakra propelling out of him in waves, in heaps.

_ Monster _ , Sasuke’s mind supplies to put a name to the image.

He narrows his eyes studying the nine-tails dictating Naruto’s conscious, and Karin’s words come barreling at him.  _ He’s hurting _ . Sasuke knows a little of how that feels. The tomoe of his eyes spin until they blossom into a flower.

The subspace is darker than last time. There is no yellow hue glowing the surroundings. Instead, it’s crimson and the acrid tang of the air suffocates him, but the seal to the beasts’ lock is crumbling on the bars. The fox hums, the ever-present growl in his voice, “ _ You’re late _ .”

“Where is he?” the points of his Sharingan spins in warning, “Where is he? What did you do?”

When you possess all of the world’s power at the palm of your hands it gives you the privilege to be unafraid and yet the Nine-Tails’ disdain thinly veils his fear of the Uchiha, “ _ You’re in no position of making demands, boy. This is what he wants—wanted. Power to help save those— _ ”

“I asked,” Sasuke’s skin crackles with Chidori zipping through each limb to the point of his sword, “Where the  _ fuck _ is Naruto?”

The water breaks around him then. A still body upending the surface, and in the dim cavern of the Nine-Tails’ space, Naruto looks lifeless. Sasuke keeps his sword pointing at the creature, carefully wading in the grimy water towards him. With a free hand, he hesitantly reaches for Naruto’s cheek, it’s warm. He’s alive. Inwardly he sighs and gazes up. Careful not to lose his sternness.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“ _ He’s burnt out _ ,” the creature scratches at the bars. It doesn’t make any sound which is surprising because from where he’s standing, they look like they’re made of steel. “ _ He’ll wake up soon enough _ .”

“Then?”

“ _ I don’t have answers for you _ ,” he responds.

“You hurt him.”

 

The grin that spreads over the horrid features of the fox leaves Sasuke furious, “ _ That I did. Suppose we have that in common, eh? _ ”

Guilt was a distant emotion he’s long cut ties with. When your goals are shrouded in darkness, smeared with blood, you’re not allowed the capacity to feel guilty about things. It’s a primal emotion though that human beings feel at varying degrees. Sometimes over diminutive things like unintentionally using a harsh tone with a loved one or when you do something  _ wrong _ . But what defines wrong? It’s all a little muddled for him.

Being twelve with knees digging into the wet earth, he  _ does _ remember though. It was raining that day. His throat was burning to cry out in pain, but he’d stared on at the body in front of him. Leaving the village wasn’t supposed to come with collateral damage in the form of eyes the color of the ocean and hair as bright as the sun, in fact, that’s exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. Because hurting the person who made him feel alive, in exchange for forgetting the impinging tragedy to gain an absolute power wasn’t what he wanted. That was Itachi’s prophecy and Sasuke chose to fulfill it.

So, whatever guilt he’d had from that day would have had fizzled out. It was better that way.

Sasuke smiles, head tilting a smidge, “You have no power over me.”

The fox bristles at his tone, narrowing his eyes at the young Uchiha, while the boy continues with a draw of his sword, “See. I’ve long since conquered my monsters. Trapped beasts with vendettas to ruin the world don’t scare me.” Nine-tails continues listening, almost as if he’s bewitched by the  _ Sharingan’s _ magic, and Sasuke’s face sets in a snarl, “But that doesn’t mean the hatred has extinguished.”

“ _ Your mortal life will never rival the resentment in me _ ,” the red of his fur shifts with the fox’s rising voice, “ _ if I have to kill this child to have my way then so be it. Human life means nothing to me _ .”

“You disgust me,” Sasuke spits venomously. The tip of his sword grazes under the Nine-tail’s chin and with a swift thrust of his sword he stabs him. Nine-tails wails, raising his paw to strike the bars of the cage. The impact causes the steel bars to shake and in turn make the seal that had already been shredding crumple.

He sneers at his opponent. “ _ Well, would you look at that? You’ve granted me my freedom _ .”

Before either Sasuke or the fox can make their next move there is a blinding light and Sasuke’s ejected out of the seal-space. He falls back into a bristly green briar. The Akatsuki member who’s standing at the bottom of the pit, his uniform torn around his shoulders doesn’t seem to notice him. Sasuke sits upright watching the beast that’s lashing out of the floating rock formation regress back to Naruto’s original form. Hurriedly he conceals his chakra to not be detected, observing Naruto’s next move. He can sense his chakra gaining momentum, elevating with each passing second while it succumbs the deadly beast.

There on, he waits.

//

 

Suigetsu, in not so many words, thinks Sasuke is a hypocrite. Not like Orochimaru who had promised him power, redemption, at the cost of his body—to extract parts of him to understand how the Hōzuki clan’s genes worked. No, Sasuke’s cruelty isn’t indiscriminate. Instead, it’s focused on the perpetrators of his own tragedy. The hypocrisy comes into how he’s going about things and Suigetsu knows that he’s welling up with urgency, frustrations to bring an end to the injustices imposed on the infamous Uchiha clan by Konohagakure. Sasuke said that they  _ didn’t _ want to make enemies with the Akatsuki yet went on running his mouth when Tobi asked Taka to assist him.

Strangely, Suigetsu can’t bring himself to dislike the guy. In fact, it’s been a long time since he’s genuinely liked someone’s company as much—not just Sasuke either, for their shortcomings and all, Karin and Jūgo too have weaseled into his likeness. He turns now facing the unspoken leader of their group, he’s lying with his face tucked into his arm on his side, streaks of moonlight dappling in through the slight concave opening in the ceiling, and for a fraction of a second there is calm, and innocence entrenched in his features.

There aren’t many rules in their group. To be honest, there aren’t  _ any _ rules except one. Nonessential killing is absolutely impermissible. Even then they’re only allowed to take a life unless it is undeniably necessary. At first, the whole thing had grated on Suigetsu’s nerves. He’s a skilled swordsman who took joy in the chaos that was brought about from the slice of his blade. He’d once confided in Jūgo that tearing things apart, the art of murder had been his unequivocal love prior to being captured by Orochimaru. As of late though he’s started noticing the recession of the desire. It’s not that he doesn’t crave using his sword anymore, but something about the splatter of blood, following in Orochimaru’s footsteps and treating life so callously sets his stomach churning uncomfortably.

Adding Sasuke’s single rule to that doesn’t help.

A strained wail breaks him out of his musings. He’s been staring off into space and hadn’t even noticed the crease between Sasuke’s brows, the drops of sweat perspiring on his upper lip, the clench of his fists. Suigetsu uneasily shifts closer. Usually it’s Jūgo who shares the sleeping space with Sasuke as a precautionary measure, but lately, there’s been an uncomfortable rift between the two men. He reaches out and pauses.  _ What should I do? _

It seems like a nightmare. Sasuke gets a lot of those. A few weeks back, Karin had told him the Sharingan works kind of like a memory film. Any event, any memory, is captured to its precision and forever stored in the mind of its wielder. That’s a handy quirk to have until you realize that all the death, all the blood lost is also stamped behind your eyelids for all of eternity. Each night Sasuke gets to relive his tragedy. 

“Hey, Sasuke, snap out of it,” Suigetsu lightly shakes his shoulder, but the other boy’s bottom lip trembles. Reflexively, his grip tightens, and he digs his fingers into Sasuke’s upper arm, “Wake up!”

Sasuke’s eyes blow wide open, red spiderweb-like strains crawl the white of his eyes, his pupils dilating to cover the slight grey to his otherwise dark eyes. Suigetsu sits up searching for water but his bottle is empty. Pushing back the blanket around him he goes to stand, “I’ll get you some water, okay?”

Nodding Sasuke croaks out, “Okay.” He’s now on his back, staring at the ceiling. Suigetsu passingly wonders if the man knows he’s ridiculously bewitching. The thought pauses him in his step. Distracted, that’s all. He’s distracted and he should be annoyed at Sasuke for putting their lives at stake, basically offering their heads to the Akatsuki and opening the possibility of them being captured again—and if his time at Orochimaru serves as anything then he’ll die before being kept captive again.

Yet.  _ Yet _ . He’s unbothered.

There are a bunch of supplies in the other room. Water, food, unused kunai packs even. Whoever was here before, they kept the place fully stocked. There is a small gas tank and a lighter pushed into the corner. They could technically stay here for a bit if they wanted to. Recover, replenish before their next move.

“What are you doing?” Karin draws him out of the trance, she’s wearing a loose tank top and even loser shorts that ride low on her hips. He grabs the water bottle he’d come to get and a glass from one of the cabinets with cutlery—the fact that shelter even has such domestic items is kind of laughable—, and turns, “Sasuke’s had another nightmare.”

She nods in understanding. Moving past him to a small bag he knows she carries around in one of the container scrolls in her pack. She unzips it and takes out a Ziploc bag with green pills. Suigetsu raises a brow in suspicion before she tosses them at him, “This should knock him out.”

“You’re drugging him….” He replies.

Karin’s balanced on her haunches, glaring up at him—somehow it’s less intimidating without her glasses because he  _ knows _ she can see him in blurs for the most part—, before answering, “He hasn’t slept in more than a month. At this rate, he’ll burn himself out.”

“Does he know what these are?” he holds up the bag.

Karin’s silence is answer enough. “I don’t know this doesn’t seem right,” Suigetsu’s hesitance is definitely coming off in waves, crashing against Karin’s stone-cold glare. She’s always so serious when she shifts into her medic mode it’s the only time, he’s  _ actually _ terrified of her—nothing is scarier than a shinobi who knows their way around every major artery in your fucking body.

“Since when did you become the messiah of morality?” she snorts, “Listen, Suigetsu, at the rate, he’s going he’s going to exhaust those eyes of his—and yeah we stole Itachi's as back up—”

Suigetsu hisses, “Shut up, do you want him to find out?”

Karin waves her hand dismissively, “He will eventually when we coax him into using them.” Suigetsu grumbles regardless. It was a last-ditch effort on their part. From the start Karin had been suspicious of that Tobi character and leaving the Sharingan in his hands, Itachi’s perfectly curated body full of Uchiha clan’s thriving genes seemed nonsensical. So, when no one was looking she’d stolen them. Sasuke’s eyes won’t last for long,  not at the rate he’s exerting his powers and if they need him around then—but that’s it, isn't it? Why are they all so desperate to help him?

He asks just that, “Why are you doing all this for him? We don’t owe him anything anymore. Itachi is dead.” Suigetsu can’t control the words tumbling out unhindered, “We’ve repaid our debt. Why are you still  _ here _ ?”

For a moment he lets that settle between them, and then he grins impishly, “Don’t tell me it’s cause you’re in  _ love _ with him? How foolish Karin.”

Karin smiles, not the sickeningly sweet one she gives Sasuke when she’s draped all over him. But this one is cruel, merciless, her red eyes lacking any ounce of remorse, “Aren’t  _ you too _ ?”

Suigetsu bristles. Every strand of hair on his body standing at the accusation. He opens his mouth to refute her preposterous assumptions when she rolls her eyes, “Relax. This is hardly important right now. Go give him the pills and get some sleep.”

Numbly Suigetsu turns on his heel walking back towards the door, Karin speaks again with clarity, “My loyalties are only to one person. Make sure you figure out yours.”

Sasuke’s in the same position he’d left. Suigetsu maneuvers around the sheets and sits down, pouring him a glass of water and hands him the pills making an excuse how they’re meant to replenish his chakra. Sasuke sits up drinking it in one go and then taking the bottle as is and drinking right from the mouth. His yukata is loose around his shoulders, sliding down a little as he adjusts, and there is that moonlight again shining down on him. His eyes that are bloodshot red just seem tired now. Once he’s had his fill of the water he pushes bangs out of his face, mumbling a quiet thank you before getting under the sheets again. He’s knocked out before Suigetsu himself has settled on the futon.

Sleep comes easy after that. The only thought clinging to his conscious is of how Uchiha Sasuke  has his unwavering loyalty whether he likes it or not.

//

Jūgo’s pact with silence breaks a week after their arrival at the hideout. The summit is getting closer and closer, meaning the underlying tension amongst them is rising with every passing day. All the discomfort that had settled between their group after Tobi’s appearance crackles until Jūgo confronts Sasuke one evening.

Karin’s sprawled on the ground, a fairly empty scroll unfurled in front of her as she dips her pen in ink and rights down the seals. Two years into her stay at Orochimaru’s hideout she’d found his library that was inundated with information about the Uzumaki clan. Turns out they were the masters of Fūinjutsu that is the clan of seals. Her affinity to certain chakra types, her innately unique sensory abilities finally started to make sense. So, behind the man’s back, she’d started her research. Despite all the information apparently the sacred seals and techniques the books mentioned were hidden away at Konohagakure due to their alliance with Uzushiogakure and Uzumaki Mito’s presence in the village. The news had annoyed her, but she’d continued learning with the material she had.

Currently, she’s trying to construct a wide-scale chakra depletion seal. Taking out a whole village is suicidal at best unless they find a way to succumb everyone. Due to her considerably huge chakra reserve, she’s the only one who’s capable of performing this justu. But it’s how to use her chakra most efficiently or else this entire plan can backfire. She bites the back of her pen, inking smudged hands tracing the already written kanji.

Jūgo’s demanding voice grabs her attention from her task at hand, “We need to talk.”

The sweltering afternoon heat has had the boys agitated since they started training. Expletives falling from Suigetsu’s mouth at every missed swipe of his Kubikiribōchō. They’ve all been on an edge ready to splinter in sharp digs and pitiless disagreements, “What about?” Sasuke somehow always manages to sound contained, poised. His shirt is zipped right down the center, a tinge of pink under his sweaty tawny skin gives away his otherwise cool predisposition.

“I need to know what’s your plan,” Jūgo’s deep inflection dithers, not from fear of Sasuke—no, none of them are quite afraid of him because underneath the hardened exterior they all know and have seen Sasuke risk his life for theirs. Instead, it seems something else entirely troubles Jūgo. Suigetsu who is now seated on his bum squints up at him asking.

“Is this why you’ve been quiet? Getting cold feet?” goading an already frazzled animal is the equivalent of putting a hand in the lion’s den. Because everyone knows that fear is the greatest source of action, people are cruel, mindless at the whim of what they’re most afraid of. It’s what propels them to  _ attack _ , to defend, to kill. Karin knows Suigetsu seeks the thrill from that discordance.

Jūgo must’ve really practiced restraint to have this conversation because he doesn’t take the bait, his eyes remain fixated on Sasuke’s impassive face, “You said your goal is to kill the elders—to attack Konoha—”

“It is,” Sasuke evenly replies.

Jūgo absorbs that. Then speaks, eyes darting to the ground—Karin notices the peculiar slouch of his shoulders. After the fight with Killer Bee, he had reverted to a childlike form and right now it looks more pronounced in his posture. “Does that include children? Civilian?” Jūgo finally meets Sasuke’s eyes, “Innocents?”

“Man, what are you on? Konohagakure is responsible for the murder of the Uchiha clan,” Suigetsu comments flippantly but Karin gets it. Sure, the elders, the shinobi are complicit in one way or another, but life still buds in the streets of the Leaf Village and destroying it will be at their expense. Child or not, innocent or not. In her own mind, though, the scales of morality cease to exist because if her mother was used and spent until the last drop of chakra she’d possessed as if she was a blood bag at the hospital then. Well, then that’s all anyone else is to her. Mere faces attached to chakra filled bodies.

But she knows, she  _ sees _ chakra in its rawest form. By definition, chakra is life energy—shaped by the fusion of physical and spiritual energy. But it’s not that simple. Chakra is life, and life is chakra. It manifests in every human being from their point of birth to their death. It flickers in response to their emotions, their experiences, their tragedies. Sometimes it grows because that’s what life does. It blooms and matures into its  purest form until it’s depleted, and the cycle begins again. Take a flower for example. You plant it in soil, and it preens under the sun, petals growing, the bud opening, and then it comes to its natural end. Until its roots spread and erupt another bud, and another, and another.

That’s how chakra works. Shinobi’s hone it to augment its original state until it’s a swollen piercing weapon ready to expel at command. They use this for the  _ supposed _ good, but chakra doesn’t only exist inside humans. It’s everywhere around them and the rawest manifestation of it is in the form of monsters that could only be buried in myths. Hachibi is one example where the Giant Ox creature is birthed from the original form of chakra and stored inside the Jinchūriki to protect people. Because on its own the Giant Ox has a conscious mind like humans—one that allows them thought and emotions. When Karin saw the Hachibi she saw the vile chakra shrouded by the faint color of the Jinchūriki. They were existing in harmony. It was the perfect example of how good can’t exist if there is no evil because who else would it compare to.

Sometimes though she sees chakra shrouded in pain, in hurt, it bleeds agony even if the person who’s veins it’s coursing through seems unperturbed. She sees it when she looks at Sasuke. Because his chakra is mesmerizing to her. It’s strong, it’s dark and contains natural power. She’s always been attracted to power. Yet sometimes like right now it swells into a soft magenta that isn’t alike blood or chaos, but similar to something more. Something kind.

Sasuke is prone to being cruel if need be, she reasons,  _ but— _

“Why won’t you say anything?” Jūgo pleads, “You promised I won’t have to kill again so why  _ won’t _ you say anything?”

“Training’s dismissed,” Sasuke announces plaintively.

The group kind of fizzles out after that. Terse talks dictate their days. Karin’s noticed Sasuke doesn’t even practice with Suigetsu anymore despite his insistent prodding. Whatever high morale they had after the fight with Killer Bee has extinguished into a cacophony of strained teamwork. No one’s willing to concede due to their thickheaded beliefs. Sighing she finishes her cup ramen, tossing the container into the trash and walks out of the cave for a nighttime stroll. There is a creek a little way from their hideout where they usually go to clean themselves. She strips down to her underwear and dips into the water.

The water runs down her skin rivulets, the foliage from the trees and shrubbery hides her from any passing bystanders. But in their three weeks at the hideout, no one has come down this route. She stretches her palm and wonders if the seal she’s creating would work. It might even mitigate the brewing animosity between her team knowing that they  _ could _ siege Konoha without hurting too many people. Sasuke probably wouldn’t agree, she muses. She ducks into the water, bubbles erupting the surface, “We’re fucked.”

There is a flicker behind her indicating her of another chakra presence in her vicinity. She remains standstill, limbs loose under the cool stream of water. She bellows out a quiet, “You know I can sense you. This is exactly why you recruited me, remember?”

Sasuke must’ve dipped his weight into the water because it ripples at motion, “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hrm,” she mutters before turning to bat her eyes at him. He’s naked waist up. “ _ ooh _ , Sasuke if you wanted me you should’ve just said,” she croons sweetly, wading towards him and circling her arms around his neck. “We are  _ alone _ .”

Sasuke doesn’t dignify her with an eye-roll which Karin knows he would’ve if he wasn’t always so in control. He simply says, “Knock it off, Karin.”

Karin gives him an unimpressed look before swimming away, speaking in a careful tone, “Sasuke.”

“What?”

“We leave for the summit in two days,” she speaks in fact. “Jūgo and you are still on entirely different wavelengths.”

“We’re fine,” Sasuke tries but she snorts.

She raises a brow, challenging, “I don't understand what you have in mind. We are willingly supporting you, but you can’t keep us in the dark. This will turn out to be costly for you in the long run.”

“There is nothing to be said. Eliminating Danzō is our top priority,” he’s glaring now but that doesn’t scare her. It’s the darkness imbued in him that’s been steadily increasing, covering the parts of him that makes her skeptical of the clarity of his decisions which is  _ terrifying _ . Sasuke’s greatest asset has always been his certainty, his self-assuredness. “We’ll kill him and then move on to Konoha.”

Karin reciprocates his tone with a leveled glare of her own, “And yet we saved Konoha’s greatest weapon on a whim.”

Sasuke startles at her accusation, but she continues, “You single-handedly hold this team together, Sasuke. None of us would be here without you and in some fucked up way we’ve found a place here. So, whatever is going on—whatever you need to do to fix this. Do it.”

Karin steps out to the edge of the riverbed and grabs her clothes from the rocks she’d spread them on. Sasuke says before she walks back to the hideout, “We’re a team. And I intend on keeping it that way.”

“Good.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is appreciated! you can talk to me send your questions on my blog takasupremacist.tumblr.com or just ask here in the comments lol. anyway thank you for reading.


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